


take me to your leader

by angelheartbeat



Series: fuck it ill do it myself [12]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Bruce Banner, BAMF Thor (Marvel), Hulk Talks (Marvel), M/M, POV Bruce Banner, POV Thor (Marvel), Rebellion, Rebels, Revolution, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-05-18 08:47:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14849586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelheartbeat/pseuds/angelheartbeat
Summary: When Hulk crashes on Sakaar, the impact is enough to turn him back to Bruce Banner.A very alone Bruce Banner who isn't about to sit around and wait for rescue - he's going to change a fucking world.





	1. prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this au is the collective baby of the thorbruce discord (check my recent fics for how 2 join haha yeah self promo u kno it) so like muah yall r Wonderful
> 
> anyway lets hope this actually pans out how i want it 2..... we'll see babey!!

While he's travelling through the cosmos at a terrific speed, Hulk has a lot of time to think, something that he typically detests. But there's little else to do on a spaceship bound to an unknown location, and so he finds himself thinking, musing, barely interacting with the man inside his brain.

 _Fine, then,_ Bruce thought from the inside of his own skull, trapped with nowhere to go.  _If thats how you're going to be about it, maybe I'll just take a nap._

He can tell Hulk's irritated by his blasé attitude, and thats maybe the best part of the act. In reality, he can feel tension growing in him - or at least, he would if he had a body to feel tense. 

Hanging out in Hulk's mind always  _sucked._ He didn't blame the guy for wanting to escape  _his_ head all the time. He was completely alone, with no control over what happened, where he went, what he did - couldn't even see it, most of the time. He just had to sit back in a haze of clouded thoughts and hope that Hulk didn't kill, decapitate, smash, maim or otherwise fatally wound anyone he cared about.

In control of their shared bodies, Hulk was growing restless. He was uncomfortably hunched in the space not meant for such a huge being, and while the lights streaking by at lightning speed had been pretty at first, now they lit a feeling in his chest that he didn't understand, couldn't recognise. 

Vaguely, he can hear puny Banner's thoughts, buried deep in his subconscious. Hulk growls, disgruntled by the reminder of the man that kept him tucked away every day and night. It was good to be free for once.

Even if the feeling in his chest was growing, and a voice that sounded suspiciously like Banner whispered the word  _fear_ to him.

At the mere insinuation, he lets out a bellowing roar.  _Hulk_ _not scared!_ he thinks furiously at the infuriating whisper in his mind. But the stars around him seem to be moving awfully fast, and he's a long way from home, and his anger is building with each revelation.

Just as Hulk starts to stand, desperate to  _smash_ something, and who cares if it sends him hurtling into space, theres a jolt, and the quinjet begins tumbling wildly. Grabbing on to anything he could, Hulk can feel the ground shaking beneath him, and a glance out of the window yields a spinning kaleidoscope of colours, indiscernible as any kind of scenery.

Theres a great shuddering crash, and when the dust clears it is not Hulk laying in the mangled body of the quinjet, but a very scared, very naked Bruce Banner.

His ears are rinding hard, and it takes him a minute to catch his bearings.  _Quinjet. Crashed quinjet, at that. Fucking hell, my back hurts..._

Once his breathing is settled enough to sit up, Bruce does just that and looks around him wildly. In his subconscious Hulk is thrashing wildly, furious at the loss of his freedom and desperate to claw his way loose, but with years of practise Bruce compartmentalizes Hulk's anger and sets it aside to be dealt with later, leaving himself a blank canvas. A still-naked blank canvas.

A quick rummage in the quinjet produces some of Tony's old clothes which he pulls on with relief, before steeling his nerves and peering outside the torn hole in the side of the quinjet, stumbling out into the unfamilar environment on unsteady legs.

He's crash-landed slap bang in the middle of a trash heap. Distant on the horizon is a city, a tower tickling the sky right in the centre, and Bruce swallows. It looks absolutely nothing like Earth.

His thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a ship landing nearby, and he wheels around to narrow his eyes at the new development. An entrance to the ship opens, and Bruce takes a step backwards, closer to the quinjet, and scrabbles for a piece of wreckage to use as a weapon, should it come to it.

From the ship comes a woman, wobbling as she strides purposefully towards Bruce. She looks... strangely human - which is surprising, considering the blatantly alien surroundings.

"Wotcher," she remarks casually, and Bruce notices a bottle of something in her hand, which she swigs gratuitously. 

"Where am I?" Bruce replies, voice steadier and much more confident than he feels. The woman rolls her eyes and flicks something with her unoccupied hand, which flies through the air and attaches itself firmly to his neck, digging in uncomfortably. 

"Sorry about this," she says, not sounding sorry at all, as she holds up a tiny device and presses a button, sending electricity through Bruce's body and bringing him to his knees - whilst simultaneously bringing Hulk to the forefront of Bruce's mind with the rush of adrenaline.

Through his shudders and the crackle of electricity flowing through him, Bruce manages to gasp out a "Stop!", fear for Hulk's takeover ironically quickening the transformation. Not to his surprise even a little bit, though, the woman only upped the electricity, a thread of annoyance pulling at her face.

It doesn't take long for Bruce's stream of consciousness to cease, though whether he was trapped within Hulk's mind or not he didn't have time to tell before everything went dark.

* * *

He awakes uncomfortably strapped to a chair, the feeling ominously familiar, and head pounding with painful force. It takes a disproportionate amount of effort to force his eyes to quit squeezing shut, and theres a twitch in his left cheek hes trying hard to ignore.

When he gets his eyes to open and glances around him, theres yet another humanoid alien (probably) sat in front of him, the woman with the taser to his right (well, Bruce's right) and another stony-faced woman to his left. Bruce gets the uncomfortable feeling that he's being evaluated.

"Hes awake," Taser-Lady comments, tipping her head towards Bruce and catching Paint-Chins attention.

"Ah, hello!" Paint-Chin says with cheer. "Oh, 142, I see what you, uh, mean. He sure is cute! But, ah, what specifically have you brought?"

"A conten-"

"Bruce Banner."

Bruce and 142 (apparently) speak at the same time, Bruce's voice wavering a lot less than he expected. He doesn't expect his name to have a jot of meaning to these people, but he'd much rather they called him by it rather than anything else. He got a nasty vibe from old Paint-Chin.

"Like I said, a contender." 142 continues, as though Bruce hasn't said a word, and he won't lie - that stings a little bit.

"Can he fight?" Paint-Chin asks, squinting at Bruce, who shifts uncomfortably under the piercing gaze. 142 shrugs.

"He seemed willing to hit me with some metal."

"Who are you?" Bruce demands, brain already whirring away to come up with an escape from his chair and from wherever the hell they were (his current theory is that massive tower in the middle of the alien city. Paint-Chin had definite dictator vibes). Paint-Chin frowns.

"Did you not watch th- I am the, uh, Grandmaster of Sakaar. I want a closer look at him, take me closer."

The woman to the left of the Grandmaster moves his chair closer to Bruce's, who has to say he's not appreciating the treatment even a little bit. The Grandmaster gets uncomfortably close, squinting at Bruce, before smiling delightedly and standing up, clapping his hands together.

"Oh, he'll do, ah, wonderfully. How much do I owe, 142?"

142 looks Bruce over again and scrunches her face up thoughtfully. "Eight mil."

The Grandmaster waves a hand dismissively. "Topaz, transfer the units."

Topaz scowls at 142, but Bruce doesn't see much else before his chair starts moving, but he takes the time to give 142 a furious glare.

* * *

Eventually, after some tedious hours spent listening to the Grandmaster talk about, well, mostly himself and his parties, Bruce gets hauled into a dirty room and dumped unceremoniously on the ground, taser disk still firmly implanted in his neck and brain still working away at an escape.

"Hello there!" comes a voice, and he whips around, automatically set on edge. Its been a weird few hours, and his nerves are frayed as hell.

For a second, Bruce can't see where its coming from, until his eyes track a face in the pile of rocks leaning up against the wall, waving at him. Albeit a little awkwardly, he waves back.

"I'm Korg," the rocks continue, nodding sagely. "As you can see, I'm made of rocks."

"Good thing I'm not made of scissors," Bruce jokes weakly, trying to repress both Hulk's grumbling and the growing pain in his temple. Korg frowns.

"Why would that matter?"

Bruce shakes his head. "Its just a rock-paper-scissors joke. Don't worry. Can you pass me those wires on the floor?"

Korg grabs the loose wires lying beside him. "These ones?"

"Mm-hmm. Pass em here."

Engineering isn't Bruce's strong suit, but his passable knowledge of theoretical engineering and spending so much time near Tony does him well as he grabs bits and pieces scattered near him and combines them, his hands shaky as always but doing the job well enough. It feels good to be scientific again, even if its not his favourite field.

Eventually, the pinch in his brow smooths out and he holds up an oddly-shaped device made of scrap parts and a fair amount of improvisation. Praying it worked, he raised it to the disc in his neck and clicked it into place, wincing as a shudder of electricity ran through him before the disc loosened and fell to the ground.

Korg stares with wide eyes. "How did you do that?"

Standing, Bruce brushes the dirt from his trousers - Tony's, actually, but he's so far from home that does it really matter? (Even if he is desperately trying not to think about how far from home he is, because it makes him start hyperventilating and he can't afford that.) "Simple," he says casually. "I just put together some of the abandoned parts into a device that interferes with the magnetic waves of the disc and used it to break the hold it had. You got a disc?"

Korg nods and Bruce smirks, suddenly very pleased with himself and passing Korg the device. "Not anymore. Now cmon. You wanna get out of here?"

"Ah, I should warn you. Its a freaky circle. Sorry, man. You won't be able to get out."

Gritting his teeth, Bruce rolls up his sleeves, accepts the device back from Korg and shoves it into his pocket, and looks him in the eye determinedly.

"Yes.  _I_ will."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lets go boys!!!!!! i actually planned this fic for once which is wild bc i..... never plan fics
> 
> as always leave comments so i can grind em up and sprinkle em on spaghetti. sluurp
> 
> stay tuned 4 Actual Updates..... whoa


	2. five years later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im. so tired
> 
> apparently the 2 years was more like 50 on sakaar but that seemed like. a bit too much so We're Goin With Five

Five long years later, Bruce finds himself hunched over in his lab, hands working away at yet another obedience disc disabler, glasses perched on his nose and gun strapped to his hip.

A lot has happened.

The first year, he spent stressed and alone, terrified of being hunted down by the Grandmaster - but to his surprise, he didn't seem to care as much as Bruce thought he would at losing someone he bought for eight million units (which Bruce was  _assuming_ were close enough to dollars). Sakaar had been crowded and terrifying, alleys and black markets and streets all curling around one another, and it was all too easy to get lost if you didn't know where you were going. Which Bruce didn't, for the better part of that first year. His new friend Korg didn't either, but they stuck together in the unfamiliar territory, and before long they were dipping and weaving through all the shortcuts like professionals.

Hulk was still an issue, naturally, but it didn't take long for Bruce to find a solution. They were surrounded by trash heaps, so whenever the green pressure behind his eyes got too much to handle, he would haul his ass out to the trash piles and let Hulk go wild. There was rarely anyone around to hurt - maybe the occasional scrapper, but Bruce had learned quickly to stay away from them. He couldn't risk being brought to the Grandmaster again,  _especially_ not Hulk. He just knew that Paint-Chin would jump at the chance to buy the other guy.

By the second year, they had managed to cease sleeping on the streets and in alleys. They had started to gain friends and allies along the way, other people stuck in similar situations - usually running from the Grandmaster - and a friend of a friend of a friend had offered them a place to stay. It was cramped and dirty and definitely not ideal, but was Bruce about to complain? He'd slept in worse. Particularly over the last year, which had been hellish.

Around the third year, once Bruce had had plenty of time to adjust, he started noticing just how shittily the Grandmaster treated his planet and the people who lived there. Not that he hadn't before - he'd been privy to the squalor for long enough - but  _really_ noticing, and it turned his stomach. The tower was shiny and the Contest of Champions arena (which Bruce had been to see once and left halfway through, feeling sick to his stomach) was kept in perfect condition. The rest of the city? Dirty, cramped, infested and just generally awful, especially being surrounded by wormholes spewing trash with no mercy.

Halfway through that third year, curled up on his tiny bed and brain ticking away, Bruce formulated a plan which started that very night. He'd got up, pulled on the Sakaarian clothes he'd borrowed or stolen or been gifted, and slipped into the streets. 

Sakaar was just as busy in the middle of the night, and Bruce was thankful for the cover as he darted around. Over the course of several hours, he stole wires and parts and cogs and scraps from all around the city, dismantled abandoned machines, gathered them all up within his coat and dashed back to the tiny apartment block he shared with Korg and a multitude of newfound friends. 

All through the night he'd worked, fitting pieces together and composing machines and devices of all manner of purpose. By the morning, when Korg shifted and gave him a cheerful greeting, he had a makeshift lab.

Over the time he'd been on Sakaar, there had been minimal opportunities to use his brainpower for anything other than "where will I sleep tonight?" or "what can I eat?". But now he had a lab, and a plan, and he was going to start a rebellion.

As soon as Korg was briefed, he hopped up to make pamphlets.

Another half-year passed, and it only vaguely occurred to Bruce that he'd been on Sakaar for four years. He was starting to get quite comfortable, actually, given how terrified he'd been at first. But the revolution he was building in the shadows was starting to grow. They'd hold meetings in Bruce's lab, and it took a couple of occasions of Bruce speaking in front of a gaggle of various alien species for it to actually click that he was talking to  _alien species._ Christ, if only he had his actual equipment from home.

Pamphlets trading hands and word spreading quickly of Bruce's rebellion meant he was gaining a following larger than he could've imagined. They whispered about him in the streets - called him the Champion. Said he was going to liberate Sakaar from the Grandmaster's rule forever.

He was offered bigger space by multiple people wanting to help out, which he happily accepted, transferring his lab over a series of days. He would often get anonymous donations of parts to use in his lab - from people who wanted the Grandmaster gone just as much as he did, and the gifts made him smile every time.

Naturally, his plan gaining traction meant sooner or later word had to reach one of the Grandmaster's lackeys, and to Bruce's mixed dismay and annoyance it was Scrapper-142 who burst into his lab partway through his fourth year, demanding to know what was going on. Bruce had grabbed the nearest weapon and brandished it determinedly, genuine confidence filling him. He would  _not_ lose everything he'd been building for the past four years.

To his surprise, though, 142 wasn't there to dismantle his whole operation - rather, she shook his hand and said she admired him, before vaguely rudely muscling in and appointing herself as his right hand woman.

Skepticism took over. The Grandmaster was 142's employer, paid her handsomely for her troubles. Why would she give that up for the terrible conditions Bruce's rebellion was operating under?

When questioned about it, though, she'd just shrugged, pulled a bottle of liquor out of seemingly thin air, and dryly informed Bruce that she could multitask. And, well, Bruce could use the help.

With 142's knowledge of Sakaar on hand, Bruce's rebellion started to snowball even more than it already had been, and it became an effort to keep it in the dark, keep it away from the Grandmaster's multitude of prying eyes. 142 acted as a double agent, letting Bruce know of the Grandmaster's plans while simultaneously making sure no word of the revolution reached him.

She also happened to witness Bruce sneaking out to the trash heaps when particularly stressed, and subsequently see him tearing the place up as Hulk, which meant he had to come clean about the other guy to her. Considering she had been the one to start him on the path to rebellion but also the one to electrocute him and not care, he was equal parts glad that he had someone to look out for him during his transformations and irritated that it was 142.

But, he had to say, they were building a pretty good friendship. She was funny and intelligent, even if she did have a drinking problem that was more than a little concerning.

And now, five years after he crash-landed through a wormhole, Bruce is leaning over his desk, hands nimbly working to construct yet another disc disabler - because the people in his rebellion kept using theirs wrong and breaking them. 

He often wonders how his old teammates are doing, especially what Tony would say at Bruce moving into engineering. And leadership. He has to say he feels somewhat guilty for abandoning Natasha the way that he did, but after five years the fluttering sensations he got when he looked at her have firmly dissipated. He hopes she's happy, though - she deserves that much.

He tries not to think too hard about whether they're missing him or not. Either answer would make him feel worse, in all honesty. Guilt if they were, and his general self-loathing if they weren't.

But he hopes they're happy. And safe. And that Sokovia turned out okay. There's a lot that he hopes, and at this point he doesn't know if he'll ever get answers.

Its not so much that he can't get off the planet. He's sure that he could reprogram a ship and get it to take him to earth  _somehow._ Its more that.... well, at this point its more that he simply doesn't  _want_ to.

Five years is a long time to spend anywhere, let alone on a frankly fascinating alien planet where he's respected and has a purpose. Earth had never been terribly receptive to him, him or Hulk, and all he'd ever really known there was pain or discomfort. His father's abuse, relentless bullying, General Ross' taunting-turned-torture, being a fugitive, being manipulated by Loki and that girl with the mind powers and even Nat, right before he left, and on top of all that, the Accident and the knowledge that he carries a monster inside of him all the time.

On Sakaar, sure, its dirty and crowded and stressful as hell. But his allies are in the hundreds, and they're all looking up to  _him._ And that makes him feel just a little warm and fuzzy inside, and every day his desire to return home to Earth shrinks a little bit more.

A knock at the door interrupts his thoughts, and he turns around to see 142 leaning against the doorway casually, eyebrows raising at him.

"What you thinkin about, little guy?" she asks, and he rolls his eyes, turning back to his desk and pocketing the disabler. 

"How I'm still convinced the markings on your face are people you've killed, and if I don't watch my words there'll be one more soon enough." Bruce jokes, turning to face her again. She scoffs.

"You've seen me change the design often enough to know thats not true."

"You like to keep people on their toes."

142 laughs. "Well, you're not wrong. Anyway, you'll probably need some for the party tonight. It's generally customary to have  _some_ form of face paint. Besides, it'll help disguise you."

Bruce takes a moment to catch up, remembering the Grandmaster's party planned that night, which he subsequently planned to infiltrate. 142's knowledge was extensive and indispensable, but the Grandmaster was much too smart to tell her everything, especially given that she was just a scrapper. Getting closer to the source would be much more effective at getting to know the extent of what the Grandmaster knew and planned. Bruce was biding his time, sure, but better to spend a lot of time planning than rush in headlong and blow his whole revolution.

"Why is it me going in again? You know if I get caught, this whole operation crumbles." Bruce asks mildly.

"You know as well as I do that you're looking for any opportunity to punch the Grandmaster in the face."

"Maybe so."

"But you know that you can't. Like you just said, it'll crumble. Well, actually, it won't, because I'm not as stupid as you are, and I can keep it running by myself without doing stupid shit like sneaking into parties hosted by the enemy."

"No, no, you just  _work_ for the enemy."

142 doesn't have a comeback for that, choosing instead to scowl playfully at Bruce and take a swig from the bottle of alcohol she's got on the go. "You need a sparring match before you go? Or rather, does the big guy need one?"

Bruce shrugs. "Can't hurt to let him out for a bit."

* * *

They end up in their usual fighting spot, a secluded valley between a group of trash piles where, save for from the air, they couldn't be spotted. It hadn't taken long after 142 had found out about Hulk for her to ask for a bout up against the guy, and while Bruce had been hesitant at first, just smashing up trash was starting to become boring for Hulk.

142 had held her own, so they'd started having sparring matches on the regular, allowing Bruce to relieve his stress a little bit, Hulk to have his fun and let off some steam, and 142 to barely break a sweat.

"Ready?" Bruce asks, shivering a little. Ripping up his clothes was fun and all, but with the scheduled hulk outs he'd taken to stripping down to his underwear beforehand, so as to preserve as many outfits as he could. 

"As always," 142 yells back, rolling her eyes and steadying her stance. 

Bruce squeezes his eyes shut and clenches his fists, allowing the pressure behind his eyes to build until it bursts and Hulk tears out of him with a gleeful roar.

"Angry girl!" Hulk cheers. Being let out more often had greatly improved his vocality. 

"Hey, big guy!" 142 replies, sprinting towards him and leaping into the air, flipping over his shoulder and latching onto his back like a monkey. "You ready to train?"

Hulk growls, yanking 142 off his shoulder and yeeting her into the nearest trash heap, before leaping toward her. Right before he squishes her underneath him, though, she slides out and grabs a metal bar nearby, twisting around and smacking it into the centre of Hulk's back. He roars, wheeling round and shooting his hand out to grab her leg, lifting her into the air and smacking her into the ground with no rhythm or pattern. 142 manages to loosen his grip on her, somehow, and wriggles free on a downwards trajectory, gracefully landing and sliding backwards. 

She immediately runs towards him again, grabbing Hulk's fist as he swings towards her and using it to flip upwards and kick him in the back of the head. Hulk twists around just as quickly, grabbing 142 around the middle and smashing her into the ground, punching her without a shred of hesitation until she rolls out of the way just before his fist lands again. Surprised at the lack of scrapper beneath him all of a sudden, Hulk leaps up and is met with 142 jumping up and driving her fist into his chin. He staggers back before shaking off the blow and clenching his fists, steadying himself for another attack.

They fight back and forth for a fair while, neither of them seriously injuring the other, before 142 taps out, deciding they'd sparred long enough for the day.

Hulk grunts. "Hulk not want to go."

"We can fight again before you know it, big guy. Now come on, give me puny Banner back."

Hulk grunts again, but he's learnt to trust 142, and obediently bows his head, allowing Bruce to push past the barriers keeping him trapped in Hulk's mind. 142 watches in her usual fascination as the great green goliath shrinks and transforms back into a very tired, very cold scientist. 

"Who won?" Bruce asks tiredly, rubbing at his head. 142 snorts, retrieving Bruce's clothes.

"I did. As always."

"Still doesn't sound right."

"Come on. Lets get you to this party."

* * *

Thus, before long, Bruce finds himself sequestered away in the corner of the Grandmaster's party, the beat of the electronic music thumping its way through his body.

Bodies move around him, people paying him no mind at all, and he's thankful for that much. Its hard to overhear conversations through the music and laughter, though, and he had the awful feeling his mission might be a bust. 

142 has to be somewhere at the party, but he can't go looking for her. She may well be with the Grandmaster, or near him, and if Bruce was spotted - well, the Grandmaster is unpredictable, who knows what would happen? He can't take the risk. So instead, he sticks close to the edges of the party and sniffs cautiously at his drink, the smell of liquor making him gag. 

Through the party, he can see the Grandmaster's face, laughing at something or other and sipping gracefully at a cocktail. Beside him is his usual gaggle of bedmates and hanger-ons. Bruce feels a flash of irritation.

And then he feels a flash of recognition, followed by his heart dropping into his stomach.

Beside the Grandmaster is an awfully familiar slicked-back greasy mess of hair, and Bruce swallows, praying it's not who he thinks it is. But then the head turns, sips at his own cocktail, and Bruce hasn't seen that face since New York, but it makes his blood boil.

Loki bursts out laughing at something the Grandmaster says, and Bruce quickly downs the liquor in his hand, despite almost vomiting because of the smell.

Loki's here. How the  _fuck_ is  _Loki_ here? Loki can't be here. Loki's in Asgardian prison. Bruce's brain is working faster than he can handle to comprehend how in the entire shitting fuck Loki could possibly be here. And in the Grandmaster's private circle, no less. Sipping a cocktail and telling jokes, very much not in prison and very much not trying to kill everyone.

He wonders where he's at these days, right before passing his drink to a random waiter passing by, and hightailing it out of there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im so bad at fight scenes djsksk
> 
> i also hate writing in present tense but ive got myself into this mess so if theres occasional tense switches Im Sorry
> 
> this cuts off weird
> 
> leave comments so i, a gremlin, can bask in adoration


	3. a contender

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didnt wanna just like. rewrite thors arrival on sakaar bc thats boring so only difference is that he didnt meet loki when he met the gm

Thor is thrown with no degree of ceremony into the room, smacking his head against the floor and groaning. He rubs his hand against his neck, shivers at the disk of cold metal beneath his fingers, and struggles to comprehend exactly how he ended up in this position.

Landing amidst heaps of trash had been disconcerting, yeah, but hes liking to think that he adjusted to it remarkably quickly, and held his own against the strangers he thinks were maybe trying to eat him? He'd  _thought_ his saviour had arrived in the wobbling woman and her gun ship, but yet again he was just attacked, only this time it had the added bonus of mocking his powers. And then he  _thinks_ he was maybe sold to this Grandmaster person?

And then he smashed his head against the floor, which really just added insult to injury. Or injury to insult, as it were.

Crawling up to the wall and leaning against it, Thor bumps his head gently against it in sync with his irritated groans.

Things are going just  _spectacularly_ shittily for him today.

* * *

"You'll never guess what happened today, little guy," 142 announces to the room at large, swinging into Bruce's lab and hopping up onto a table, leaning back to the shelves of booze - just for her - and popping a bottle open.

"What'd you do?" Bruce asks, scribbling formulas onto his arm for lack of spare paper.

"Sold an Asgardian prince to the Grandmaster."

Eyes wide, Bruce springs round, pen slipping and creating a scribbled line across his arm. "You  _what_?"

Gulping straight from the bottle, 142 waves her hand casually. "Don't be like that. You know I have to keep up the act or he'll suspect I don't work for him anymore, and the Asgardian throne is bullshit anyway. Trust me, I know that very well." Her tone turns dark at the end, but Bruce doesn't have time to consider that, his brain working to hard to compute what this means.

Loki's already  _here_ \- and weeks later, Bruce was still deliberating over whether or not to approach him for help (he was firmly leaning towards not) - and to his knowledge, Loki only had one sibling, which meant that-

"This prince, what did he look like?"

142 shrugs. "Tall. Long blonde hair, red cape? I think he said his name was Thor. Why, you know him?"

Bruce pauses, dithering over his response. "We know each other, yeah. He's a friend from work. And listen, you have  _got_ to get him free! As soon as possible! Actually, here-"

Pulling one of his disk disablers from his coat, Bruce tosses it towards 142, who catches it with ease and rolls her eyes. 

"You know I can control his disk? I could just take it off right now."

"But you've gotta tell him I need to see him, so you've got to see him. But maybe don't tell him its me. Just say someone needs to see him."

"Alright, fine. But you realise if we keep breaking people out, Grandmaster's going to get real suspicious?" She pockets the device anyway.

"Its just  _really_ important that you free this one specific guy. Please."

"I wasn't saying no, little guy. Have fun tinkering."

With that, she hops off the table, finishes chugging her bottle and flings it at the wall, and strolls out. Bruce turns to face his desk again, steadying his breathing. 

_Okay. So not only is Loki here, Thor is too. Thats okay. This is fine. You just haven't seen him in five years, and said not a single goodbye when you left. Oh god, what if he hates you for that? No, its Thor. Hes the nicest alien you know. Five years ago that wouldn't have meant a thing, given that your only frame of reference was Loki. Whos also here. Oh, shitting fuck._

Leaning on his elbows on the table, Bruce lightly bumps his forehead against his clasped hands. 

_What if they finally decided to track you down and arrest you, and Thor was sent to do it? What if theres an issue on earth and the Avengers want you back? What if General Ross decided enough was enough? But why Thor, of all people?_

His own thoughts are starting to make his head hurt, and he groans.

* * *

142 does a lot of shit for both of her bosses, and she has to say they both have their merits. Bruce is certainly more reputable than the Grandmaster, albeit with less money, influence and power.

When the time comes for her to have to, she's not sure who she'll side with. On the one hand, bringing Sakaar crashing to the ground would be a wonderful thing. But on the other, its her safe haven. The one place where she can be untroubled by her past, not plagued by thoughts of her sisters and her lover and her loss. Where she can drink and drink and die one day and mean nothing.

And then again, she thinks she might want to mean something again.

On her way into the arena to find and subsequently sneak into the contender holding cell, everything goes well. Except for the part where the Grandmaster intercepts her and turns everything sideways.

"Ah, 142, my, my favourite scrapper!" he exclaims, striding toward her purposefully. "Here to see the show? I'm, ah, showcasing the one you, uh, brought me earlier. The sparkly one."

142 internally groans. If Sparkles-Thor-Whatever dies, Bruce'll never stop giving her hell for it, and she likes working for him. Plus the big guy will probably get mad too, she's assuming, and she'd  _really_ hate for him to be mad at her. But she plasters a cocky smile on her face, and pushes down the mass of emotions.

"Sounds good. I'll be there."

"Actually, ah, I had a better idea. I have always been just  _dying_ to get you to watch a fight with me in the royal box. You're always so, uh, far away in your ship!"

She has to suppress a grimace. The royal box is notoriously only for the Grandmaster and his sex toys, and has been used for sex, especially orgies, probably more times than she can count.

But she tilts her head, nods somewhat. "Sure. When is it?"

Laughing, Grandmaster swings an arm around 142's shoulders - earning her a glare from Topaz, standing to attention at his shoulder like always - and begins walking. "Right now, silly."

Casting a glance back to her route to the holding cell, she squares her shoulders, grits her teeth, and prepares for the possibility of the big guy eviscerating her.

* * *

Meanwhile, angry as all Hel, Thor paws at a rack of weapons and tries not to think about how he is being manipulated and forced into fighting against his will. Its quite hard not to, though, given where he is and what hes doing, but hes trying.

He misses Mjolnir. Something feels unbalanced about him, like a crutch is missing. His hand feels empty without the familiarity of Mjolnir's handle grasped within it, or at the very least the constant reassurance that Mjolnir would return.

But then he spots the scrapper, 142 he thinks, who got him into this mess, buying a drink. He starts to stride over to her, anger building in his chest, only to be met with her striding just as purposefully towards him. They meet at the frankly unnecessary laser barrier.

"Hey," Thor gets out, preparing himself to give 142 a piece of his mind, but she interrupts him, leaning in close and narrowing her eyes.

"Look," she says, voice bitter. "I was meant to get you out of this mess earlier but I was compromised. You're ridiculous, and you'll probably die anyway, because no one gets out of this place, but my boss said I had to."

Thor furrows his brow. "Isn't your boss that terrible Grandmaster person?"

"My other boss. I-"

"Lord of Thunder!" a voice calls from behind Thor, before guards seize him by the arms. "You're up!"

Thor whacks away the guards, only to be met by an even more forceful grip, making him stumble as they drag him backwards, quite literally kicking and screaming. 142 takes a deep breath before turning around, strolling in the opposite direction without a care, and Thor can do nothing but watch as they haul him into a chair and strap him down.

He could handle the fighting. He could handle the generally slimy nature of the Grandmaster. He could handle most anything about this situation.

But the moment the first lock of his hair drops to the ground, hacked away by an old man with questionable fashion sense, he wants to destroy the planet and everyone who lives there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there was gonna be more and im screwin up the first fic plan ive written maybe ever but whats gucci babey thats just how i rollz with a z
> 
> leave comments and maybe ill reveal the secret of the tiny chef who tells me what to do


	4. battle arena

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i rly need to learn abt smthn i think the organised call... a regular update schedule  
> im sorry this is so irregular!! im just constantly exhausted,

Thor is  _furious._

His hair has been chopped off, paint smeared across his face, he's been dressed up in unfamiliar armour and thrown in a ring, and all in less than fifteen minutes. He's almost excited for his opponent to appear in the ring. He could do to let off some steam.

Above him, the projection of the Grandmaster rubs his hands together gleefully, as Thor puts his helmet on and gets in the mindset to fight.

"And opposing the Lord of Thunder, in what promises to be a fight quite literally, ah,  _sparking_ with excitement, is the  _Shamed_!"

A muscled man bursts into the arena. He's similarly armoured, albeit less so than Thor, and wielding a vicious-looking sword. Theres black markings along his face, and from this distance Thor can't tell if they're natural or just the Grandmaster's whimsy.

He doesn't have time to speculate on his opponent any further, though - he has to shift into a fighting stance, and quickly. The familiar apprehension of battle settles into his bones, and he narrows his eyes. He's fought hundreds of fights. Nothing to say he won't win this one too.

One instant, they're circling the arena, appraising one another and coiling their muscles in preparation, and the next instant they're springing at one another, meeting with a mighty crash and instantly breaking out into vicious duelling.

It's odd. Thor's fought battles where he's unwilling, battles where the other is unwilling, but never one where he can sense that they're  _both_ unwilling. Even as their weapons clash and they duck under, weave round, take the opportunity and hit the opponent square-on, and duck round again, under, over, jab, jab again and  _dodge_ \- even then, he can feel in the air a mutual unwillingness. To any of the watching eyes, he's sure they look like mortal enemies, the energy in the air building as they parry and block and  _thwack_ the other across the arena, but he knows that neither of them are willing participants. Which is what makes it so much harder to deal genuine damage.

The Shamed seems to have no such qualms, swiping mercilessly at Thor with his sword and cutting neatly through the flesh in points. Thor hisses through his teeth, fury building and bursting out in a flurry of violent movements. From there, the battle only grows more heated.

Up in his royal box, the Grandmaster watches eagerly, greedily drinking in the sight and spectacle of the violent fight. 142 is a little more apprehensive, perched on the edge of the sofa, though as the battle rages on and Thor continues to hold his own she becomes marginally more relaxed, sitting back and glugging a bottle of booze.

"Terrific fight, don't you, uh, think?" the Grandmaster asks, leaning towards 142, who nods, suppressing a grimace. "Awful shame Lo-Lo isn't here to see it."

142 raises an eyebrow. "Lo-Lo?"

"Loki. He's a sweet little thing. Thinks awfully highly of himself." Laughing, the Grandmaster winks conspiratorially and settles back into his seat. 

"Someone say my name?" comes an amused voice, and the Grandmaster whips around to see Loki standing there, holding a cocktail of questionable ingredients. 

"Loki!" the Grandmaster exclaims cheerfully, shifting along the sofa and patting the space beside him invitingly. "So glad you could come!"

"Who's fighting?" Loki asks, in lieu of a proper answer, but his face pales considerably when he spots Thor in the ring, face scrunched with focus and muscles tense with exertion. 142 narrows her eyes at his expression, even as he smooths it away and replaces it with a calm smile. "Anyone good?"

The Grandmaster waves dismissively. "Mediocre, at best." 142 can see Loki bristle at that, and the gears start turning in her head. 

Down in the arena, Thor makes the mistake of glancing up at the royal box, spotting Loki sipping desperately at his cocktail. He stops in his tracks - a grave mistake, given that the Shamed immediately takes the chance and whacks him halfway across the arena, to slam into the walls around the ring. A cheer breaks out across the spectators - not the first they'd heard, nor, Thor assumed, the last they would.

Somewhat thrown off guard, Thor staggers out of the slight dent he made in the wall and charges toward the Shamed, blotting his brother out of his mind for now. He focuses every ounce of energy on beating the Shamed, pounding him into the ground with no mercy, sparks flying at his fingertips and eyes burning with static. 

Above, the Grandmaster leans interestedly forward. The Shamed becomes eerily still, although his chest keeps rising up and down. Thor pulls back a fist, crackling with furious lightning-

and then stops. The lightning dies down, and his face drops. Suddenly, into his battle-addled mind, the realisation that the Shamed was an unwilling participant has resurfaced. He can't kill him. He just can't.

And as such he stands, ceases pinning the Shamed beneath him, and holds his weapon above his head before dropping it to the ground.

"I forfeit your stupid match!" he yells at the Grandmaster, his burning eyes meeting Loki's, who swallows nervously. The Grandmaster pouts, before pulling a device out of his pocket and pointing it at Thor.

His obedience disk activates immediately, sending shock waves through his body and throwing him, convulsing, to the ground, before knocking him out just as cleanly as the Shamed. 142 peers over her bottle. 

Well, no doubt Bruce would be pissed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i forgot shamed was a word i kept reading it as shah-med  
> anyway hiroim the shamed is a planet hulk character u kno i do that sweet sweet research
> 
> also this was gonna be longer but i havent updated in so long i thought i should maybe. do that  
> so this is kind of a filler chapter my apologies
> 
> comment for a free planet hulk reference (no guarantees no refunds)


	5. a trickster and a valkyrie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter has frostmaster mentioned in it but theyre not actually a thing just so u kno in case thats not ur biz

Jolting awake in an unfamiliar room, Thor groans and winces at the protest from every inch of his body. He's smeared with blood and grime, muscles locked up from the shockwaves, and his head is absolutely killing him.

Pushing all of that aside for the minute, he forces himself to get up and look around. Its a tiny, dark room with a window with actual bars across it, but at least its not the almost holding cell he'd been tossed into before the battle. Unless it's just another holding cell, which seems likely, what with the bars and all. 

The rest of the room is nice enough, though, if horribly decorated -  _just pick a colour,_ Thor thinks, wrinkling his nose at the striped green and blue. Besides that there's furniture, a table and chairs and a bed that looks fairly comfy. But then through the fog clouding his mind, memories besides  _fuck, this hurts_ start to trickle back to him.

Namely, one trickster god who shouldn't be here. Couldn't be here. Thor had seen Hela toss him out of the Bifrost herself - but, then again, he supposes, he was tossed out too and he's just fine. Angry, wounded and exhausted, but alive.

He was mainly angry at Loki not reaching out to him, telling him he was here. He starts pacing in annoyance, even as his muscles scream at him. The pain will work itself out.

"Brother."

At the unexpected voice Thor wheels round, only to narrow his eyes in irritation. Loki stands by the entrance to the room, hands folded neatly over each other and face unreadable. Thor doesn't know if he's happy or furious to see him.

"What the  _Hel_ are you doing here?" he hisses at him, grabbing the nearest object off the table in the room (it was a book, maybe?) and tossing it at Loki to relieve some of the emotions he was feeling. It phases right through him and clatters to the floor. Loki looks almost embarrassed.

"You didn't think I'd actually come and see you in person, did you?" he asks laughingly. "This place is disgusting."

"How long have you been here?" Thor snaps, running a hand through his new short hair and flinching at the feeling.

"In this room, or..." Loki doesn't get a chance to finish before Thor shoots him a threatening glare, and he blanches. "A couple of weeks."

"And you never let me know?!"

"I didn't know you were here either!" Loki at least has the good grace to look sheepish. "The first I knew was seeing you in the arena last night."

"Well you could've- wait, last  _night?_ I've been asleep for a day?"

"You were hurt rather badly."

Remembering the aches and stabbing pains across his body, Thor winces and collapses into a chair. While no longer actively ignoring them, the pains demand his attention.

"Well," he says determinedly, suppressing a wave of nausea. "Now that I know you're here, you have to come with me to Asgard to defeat Hela."

"What? No. No way."

"You don't want to save your home from certain destruction?"

"First of all, home is a relative term. Secondly, if Hela's made it there already then Asgard's fucked either way. What help would we be?"

"We have to at least  _try._ Or, or what, you'd just sit here, complacent, and wait for someone else to do the work?"

"Sounds like a plan to me."

Thor scowls at the illusion of his brother and rubs a hand across his eyes, groaning. Loki shifts uncomfortably.

"Look," Loki starts. "I have good standing with the Grandmaster. If we remain here we can build a life for ourselves. Sakaar is prosperous if nothing else, I get whatever I desire from the Grandmaster, and before long enough he'll die, and then..." He makes some vague gestures towards Thor and himself and mouths something about taking over, before giving a thumbs up. Thor screws up his face.

"Is he your  _sugar daddy_?" he asks disbelievingly, and Loki jolts. 

"Okay, one, how do you know what that means? And two, no! Not even a little bit! He just likes my company, and that means that I have potential here on Sakaar."

"I  _knew_ there was a reason he was treating you so nicely." a familiar voice says from the doorway, followed by a sarcastic tut. Thor glances up to see 142 leaning against the door frame, arms loosely folded. He bristles at the sight.

"What the Hel are _you_ doing here?" he asks, although he has to say he respects 142. She's mighty fierce, and he respects that.

"Chill out, Sparkles. I'm here to free you." she says casually, flicking a switch on the device attached to her belt. The obedience disk digging painfully into Thor's next detaches and clinks onto the ground. He sighs in relief, massaging his neck.

"How come?" he asks belatedly, brow furrowing. Loki's eyebrows are pulled together too, his brain visibly slotting puzzle pieces together. "I thought you worked for the Grandmaster."

"And believe me, he is loving the publicity you're getting far too much to let you go," Loki chips in, folding his arms tightly. "Not that he lets anyone go in the first place."

"I'm not going to tell you anything here," 142 says, like it's obvious. "But I-"

She makes the mistake of gesturing widely while she talks, and Thor spots a tattoo on her inner forearm that he distinctly recognises, having spent much of his childhood with the emblem plastered across his walls. "My god, you're a Valkyrie," he exclaims, pointing at the tattoo, and Loki raises an eyebrow.

"An Asgardian, hm?" he asks sarcastically. "Explains why you can drink so much."

Valkyrie scowls at him. "Mind your business, Lackey-" ("Its Loki,") "and you too, Sparkles," she adds, shooting a glare at Thor. "I'm not a Valkyrie. I'm a scrapper, and I don't even have to do this, so if you don't mind-"

She turns to leave, but Thor stands up quickly, scraping the chair back in his haste. "Wait! Wait. Do you know how I can get off this planet? I have to get back to Asgard, and- hey, you should come with us! We could use a Valkyrie on the team."

Val wheels back around, visibly irritated, and storms towards Thor, procuring a dagger from seemingly nowhere and holding it up to his chin. "Listen here. I just said that I'm not a Valkyrie."

"I did think they all died tragic deaths," Loki comments unnecessarily, and Val flinches, but ignores it as best she can.

"I don't care what happens to Asgard. The throne can crash and burn for all I care. And that includes you two."

Thor pushes the dagger down as gently as he can, only to be met with an identical one sliding upwards in her other hand. Loki looks almost impressed.

"Look. Odin is dead," he begins, squaring his shoulders. "Hela has returned. Asgard is in peril.  _Please,_ at least help me return there."

"If Hela has returned then there's no hope for Asgard."

"Thats what I said," Loki mutters.

"Shut up, Loki," Thor mumbles back.

"Its dead either way," Val continues, pretending to have not heard their exchange. "So you may as well do something worthwhile on Sakaar."

Thor glares. "I'd hardly call fighting for entertainment  _worthwhile._ "

"Not that, idiot. I can't talk about it here. Come with me."

Suspicious, Thor starts following Valkyrie out of the room. Loki phases out of existence in a wisp of green as Thor walks past him.

They start walking down the halls of what Thor assumes is either the tower or the arena, Valkyrie walking impossibly fast for someone of her stature. He has his suspicions about where they're headed, but considering how unpredictable the prior events have been he very much doubts he's correct.

"So where are we going?" he asks, almost amused, on around their tenth sharp turn down a corridor.

"There's someone you need to meet," Val replies cryptically, but provides no further response, even when prodded heavily by Thor.

On their eleventh sharp turn down a corridor, though, they're faced with two intimidating-looking guards, staring them down as though expecting their arrival. Val pales considerably, and although unafraid of the guards, seeing Valkyrie physically nervous makes his skin crawl.

"The Grandmaster wants to see you two," one of the guards says, and Thor already knows he was right to feel nervous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my plan is.. falling apart
> 
> bruce will return Soon... soon...
> 
> comment for a free thor toe sucking


	6. threats

"I must say I'm, ah, a  _little_ disappointed."

The Grandmaster tuts, pacing back and forth in front of Thor and Valkyrie, both tightly locked to chairs. His bodyguard Topaz stands silently off to the side, holding the meltstick ominously. Thor shifts uncomfortably as the Grandmaster fixes his collar and turns dramatically on his heel to face them.

"I had such high hopes for you, Sparkles!" he whines, pouting. "And you, 142. Aren't I always saying you're the, uh, best? And here you are breaking my, ah, newest contender out. A contender you brought me, no less. Anything to add? Defend your actions, perhaps?"

"My nose itches," Valkyrie replies, deadpan, waving her hands from where they're cuffed to the arm rests. The Grandmaster giggles breezily.

"My apologies, 142. You might just have to be a little bit, ah, _uncomfortable_. Because, you see, I am very much not happy. Not happy even a little bit! And as you can, uh, imagine, I don't like not being happy."

Thor tunes out, letting the Grandmaster ramble on in a background drone of noise, and starts focusing on how to get out of this situation. He's broken out of scheming by a sudden iron grip on his jaw, the Grandmaster pulling his face to look him directly in the eyes.

"Are you listening to me, Sparkles?" he asks, and there's a definite sinister undertone. For the first time, the Grandmaster seems threatening and not just vaguely deranged. "Its rude to, ah, not listen when someone is  _talking._ Ears open, please."

Thor swallows, and the Grandmaster gives him a serene smile and straightens back up, adjusting his collar again. Before he begins to talk again, the door opens and Loki not-quite-runs in. The Grandmaster perks up immediately.

"Lo-lo!" he exclaims, skipping to Loki and winding an arm around his waist. Loki wills his face into a blank mask and raises an eyebrow, reluctantly allowing himself to be pulled in front of Val and Thor. "I'm having such fun with these two. You want in?"

"You leave my brother alone, you-" Thor bursts out through gritted teeth, and the Grandmaster holds up a hand in a  _stop_ gesture.

"Whoa, whoa whoa, brother? Lo-lo, you never told me that you and Sparkles sprouted from the same tree! I must say, I wouldn't have, ah, guessed. The similarities aren't striking."

"Adopted," Loki mutters, extracting himself from the Grandmaster's arm around him. 

"Well isn't  _that_ interesting?" Grandmaster says, clapping his hands. "Although, as much as I'd love to stand around and, ah, gossip about your family tree, we should get back to the task at hand, mm?"

"A wise decision, Grandmaster," Loki says with a smile.

"Well lets just get it out there, shall we? I know about your little, ah, revolution."

Valkyrie flinches, just a little, and Thor's head snaps to look at her, head immediately full of questions. Just as soon as Val was shocked, though, she's calm again, cool and collected and entirely unbothered.

"What revolution?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, 142. You're so silly. I know you know, because I know you're working as a double agent. Which, by the way, is almost hurtful. I'm not a good enough boss? What does- oh, what was his name? Something Banner? I wanna say Banner."

Thor's head snaps back to the Grandmaster, eyes wide.  _Banner?_ As in,  _Bruce Banner who Hulked out and flew away in the Quinjet and hasn't been heard of in two years, he thinks? That Banner?_

"I don't mean to be so, ah, forgetful," the Grandmaster continues almost apologetically. "Its been five years, and someone so dull and forgettable... Just slips the mind."

 _Oh,_ Thor thinks, feeling almost silly for imagining it could be his Banner.  _It can't be him, then. Its only been two years._

"But yes, what does this Banner have that I don't, hmm?"

_But then again, Loki said he was here for a couple of weeks when I'd only just arrived. Maybe..._

"A moral compass, for one," Valkyrie mumbles, rolling her eyes.

Petulantly, the Grandmaster sticks out his tongue. "Phooey. A moral compass will get you quite literally, ah, nowhere. Sakaar is not a  _moral_ place, 142. It simply wouldn't be as much fun if it were. Now, this revolution is all quite silly. I very much doubt its any kind of threat, which is why its just not worth the energy to shut it down. Although I must say, the amount of executions would be  _delightful._ And speaking of executions..."

Without prompting, Topaz offers the Grandmaster the meltstick, having observed the proceedings stony-faced and tight-lipped. He accepts it graciously, and Thor has a brief moment where a stream of quite impressive curses bounce around in his brain. Even Loki looks a touch nervous, knowing that Thor doesn't quite have the same knack and penchant for faking his own death that he does.

"Now," the Grandmaster begins, waving the meltstick slightly. "I don't want to have to use this. Don't get me wrong, I love a good melting, but you two are just so, ah, how should I put it? Intriguing. Entertaining, shall we say. So for now, you shall remain solid and un-melted, which is boring, but I hope you won't disappoint."

Thor breathes a tiny sigh of relief, and he can almost feel Valkyrie doing the same. The Grandmaster holds up a finger before they can get too relaxed though, shaking his head amusedly.

"But you're not let  _go._ 142, I just hate to see you go, especially as you bring me such, ah, delightful treats, but I must say I'm excited to see your skills in an arena! And Sparkles, what a fight last night! Can't wait to, uh, see more."

"What?" Val asks, brows drawn together in confusion. 

"You're a contender now. Did I not say..?"

Through gritted teeth, Val replies. "No. You did not."

"Oh well. You know now."

Loki shifts uncomfortably on his feet, likely a direct result of Thor's disapproving stare boring straight through his head, and the Grandmaster slips his arm around his waist again, pulling him close.

"Oh, and another thing." Grandmaster adds. "I may not have melted you yet, but believe me when I say that if you disappoint me again, there'll be a execution that I for once won't be happy to perform. And if you ever try and properly join that little revolution against me-"

He grins, but something looks different. It's deranged, almost like there's rows and rows of sharp teeth filling his mouth and lending his smile a terrifying air. A thrill of genuine terror runs down Thor's back - even with that one smile, he can tell that the Grandmaster is unlike any enemy he's ever faced. He's ancient and powerful beyond anything Thor can imagine, and he's making sure that both Thor and Val know it. And then his smile goes back to merely a little cheeky, and he half-winks.

"Just know that there will be a lot worse in store for you than a little  _melting,_ " he finishes, before waving the hand not pinning Loki tight to him (who looked paler than Thor had ever seen him - a mighty feat). "Take them back to the cells. Bye bye!"

With that, the chairs start moving, flanked on either side by a guard. Thor's not used to feeling intimidated, not even a little bit, and he has to say he's uncomfortable. Not to mention nervous for Loki, back there with that maniac, and his head is spinning with questions. 

His thoughts carry him down a few corridors until he stops himself, thinks  _what bullshit_ and looks at Val, whos already looking at him, and they nod.

Gathering all his strength, Thor bursts free from the cuffs and twists round to punch the guard by his chair square in the face, the guard dropping to the floor almost immediately. Looking over, he sees Val burst free in a similar fashion and send her elbow into her guards face with an ominous crunching noise, before the guard drops too.

"Wow," Thor comments quietly, and Val smirks and wiggles her eyebrows.

"Right, now where are we going?" she asks, kicking slightly at the guards on the floor. Thor considers how badly he needs to get back to Asgard, before considering other pressing matters recently surfacing, and takes a deep breath.

"Take me to Banner."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we gettin Into It
> 
> comment 2 be melted (for free)


	7. a reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its been ten thousand years... im sorry boys

"Hey, Korg?"

Bruce wanders into Korg's room, finishing clicking a wire into place on his gun and twirling it before tucking it back into his holster. Korg's sitting on the ground with one of the more recent recruits, Miek, and when Bruce speaks he waves enthusiastically, pushing himself up.

"Hi boss!" he says cheerfully. "I was just teachin' Miek to play rock paper scissors. But it doesn't seem to go very well. He always picks scissors."

Bruce looks at Miek. "He has knives for hands."

"Yeah, not ideal, is it? Especially with me being made of rocks and all. I always end up winning. I choose paper sometimes." He leans in conspiratorially. "Thats because I feel bad."

"Uh huh. Korg, I need you to do something."

"What can I do you for, Champion?"

"Can you find 142 for me? I sent her to free Th- someone last night, and she still hasn't come back or sent any word. I'm worried something happened."

"Course! Bye, Miek!" Korg exits with a wave, humming to himself as he leaves, and Bruce is left with Miek, who looks a little put out. Bruce shrugs to himself.

"Rock paper scissors, Miek?" he asks, holding his hand out in a fist. Miek stands up and makes a chittering sound of agreement. "Rock, paper, scissors- shoot!"

Naturally, Miek's turns out as a blade, and Bruce triumphantly (but gently) knocks it with his fist. Miek clicks angrily, and Bruce feels just a  _little_ bad. But then he makes a sound thats almost laughing, and Bruce chuckles along.

God, he loves aliens.

* * *

"You drink rather a lot," Thor comments as they weave their way through the crowded Sakaarian streets, frowning as they pause to allow Valkyrie to buy a bottle of liquor. She glares at Thor as she whips a dagger from nowhere and pops the lid off using it.

"If I wanted you to comment on my drinking habits, I'd have said so," she replies coolly, but there's no real malice in it. It's friendly, and Thor's disproportionately pleased by that.

"I just think it'll do you more harm than good," he shrugs as they push past various aliens who grumble at them but, to his relief, don't recognize him. It was probably due to the fact that it was hard to see someone's face in a massive arena, but he liked to think it was down to his disguise. Valkyrie had said the blanket was stupid, as people could see his face, but he thought his disguise was excellent.

"142!"

They both glance around at the shouted number, Thor instinctively holding his right hand out before remembering and dropping it slowly, suddenly melancholy. A great figure made of rock pushes through the crowd, a smile splitting his face, and Valkyrie holds a hand up in recognition.

"There you are," the figure continues as he reaches them. "Bruce was lookin' for you. You never came back from gettin' Thor. And-" he turns to Thor. "You must be Thor! Good to meet ya, I'm Korg."

Thor barely listens, hung up on one specific word. "Did you say Bruce?"

"Sure did! He's the boss around here. Well. He is for us."

It  _is_ Thor's Banner! A grin spreads across his face at the thought of a familiar face (one that's not his literal snake of a sibling), particularly one he hasn't seen in two years and missed more than he'd care to admit.

"What are we waiting for?" he asks, overjoyed. "Let's go!"

Val says nothing, gesturing to Korg to lead the way, and the latter happily obliges. They push their way through even more crowds and streets, making their way into shady alleys where aliens stare at them brazenly. Thor glances around him in fascination, used to the grand opulence of Asgard or the dirty darkness of Earth alleyways. These alleys are colourful and full of life. They're small and cramped, but the walls are plastered with colour and posters, washing lines string overhead with unfamiliar garments, and doors are set into unexpected places.

Korg stops once they reach a door that looks indistinct from any other and knocks a particular pattern. They wait a couple seconds before the door opens, seemingly no one on the other side, and Korg and Val enter with no qualms. Thor squints at the door but follows.

They find themselves in something like an apartment building lobby, flickering lights illuminating the still-colourful space, and Thor wonders if everything on this planet is naturally splashed with colour. 

"Is he in the lab?" Val asks Korg, who shakes his head.

"I dunno. Last I saw, he was in my room. He might've gone back."

"Alright. We'll check the lab. Thanks, Korg."

"No problem!"

Korg starts climbing the stairs that Thor had barely noticed were there. He was busy wondering just how much Banner had managed in his time away from Earth. Val turns to him expectantly, and he frowns.

"I don't know where it is," he says, furrowing his brow, and she rolls her eyes.

"You could've followed Korg," she replies, but sets off toward the stairs with Thor in tow. They climb several flights and go past several different aliens, all busy with something or other, including Korg chatting with a smaller creature with blades for hands. He waves at them, and Thor waves back.

"This is Bruce," Val says shortly, stopping at a closed door. Thor raises his eyebrows and smiles, amused.

"He looks different than I remember."

Val rolls her eyes yet again and opens the door.

The room is filled with whirring machines, tables littered with strange devices and bits of paper, scrawled research on every available piece. It's cluttered and messy, but there's a clear view across the room to the back of someone's head, someone Thor hasn't seen in two years and yet still recognizes. 

"Banner!" he exclaims, and Bruce turns around.

His face is painted with surprise, but its definitely the Bruce that Thor remembers. His hair is a little greyer, and he's wearing clothes that Thor's never seen before, but his eyes are full of recognition and his mouth pulls into a smile almost immediately.

" _Thor_!"

He takes a few awkward steps toward Thor, before the latter crosses the room in a few short strides and scoops him into a hug, lifting him off the ground. Bruce laughs and pats Thor's shoulder a little nervously.

"It's been too long, Banner!" cries Thor, as he places Bruce back down and takes a step back, remembering his aversion to excessive contact, but Bruce doesn't seem to mind, his hand reaching out and lingering on Thor's arm.

"I know! How is everyone? Did we win in Sokovia?"

"Everyone's, uh..." Fuck, he hasn't been back to Earth for ages. "Great! How long have you been here?"

"Well I don't exactly know how long I took to get here, but I've been here for five years. I thought that would be obvious..?"

Thor shakes his head. "Time's fucked up. You've been gone for two years."

Bruce gapes a little. "Only two..? Well. If I'm honest that's a bit of a relief. I can't believe I'm going to ask this, but... did everyone miss me?"

He looks uncomfortable, almost unused to even the idea of people missing him, and Thor doesn't know what to say. Until he does. "I can't speak for our other friends, but  _I_ missed you, Banner."

Bruce's mouth curves into a smile. "Really?"

"Yeah! And hey, now I've found you here, you can help me!"

"Help you?"

"Yeah, see, I sort of have an older sister? She's taking over Asgard as we speak, probably-" Thor swallows. "-slaughtering hundreds, and I could really use your help."

"What? No, I can't fight your sister, that's a family issue, I don't wanna get into that-"

"No, no, it's fine, really! See, the Hulk would be the fire on the team-"

Bruce's face falls, and he takes a step back, pushing Thor away in the same motion. "Wait, you're just using me to get to the Hulk. That's gross. You don't care about me. Fuck, I thought I escaped this when I wasn't on Earth anymore."

Thor realises what he said and swears under his breath, reaching out to grab Bruce's arm again. "I'm not using you! I don't... I don't even like the Hulk! He's all smash, smash, smash, I- I prefer  _you._ "

"Really?"

Thor nods. Bruce relaxes a little and takes a deep breath. "Okay. Well, even still, I don't think I could help. I want to, I really do, but I started a  _revolution_ here on Sakaar, and I, well, I guess I kind of have to finish it."

"Yeah, we can't just leave," Valkyrie adds, and Thor jumps a little, having forgotten she was in the room. She'd sat down in the corner and started chugging away at yet another bottle (Thor didn't even know where she was keeping them). "The little guy here has a goddamn empire. We're overthrowing the Grandmaster one way or another."

Thor frowns. "But isn't it useless if he already knows about it?"

"He  _what_?"

Bruce looks genuinely shocked, and Thor instantly feels bad. He might've just ruined everything Bruce seems to have been building over five whole years.

"Yeah," Valkyrie continues, hopping up and walking over to them, crossing her arms. "Sorry, little buddy. He got real threatening, and turns out he's known this whole time."

Bruce swallows. "Well... that's. A revelation."

They stand in silence for a minute, before Bruce sets his jaw and turns around, continuing to fiddle with the weapon laying in pieces on his desk. Thor frowns again. "Banner? Are you continuing your revolution?"

"Well, obviously. I can't just abandon everything I've worked on for five years. You can't.. you can't just do that." His hands are a blur, grabbing wires and circuitboards and slotting them into place. Thor watches in fascination as he constructs a gun right before their eyes.

"If it helps," Valkyrie says. "He doesn't think we're a threat. Like, at all."

Bruce laughs hollowly. "Oh, he doesn't think we're a threat?"

He clicks a couple more pieces into place, and spins the gun between his fingers, taking a deep breath. Thor can barely tell that it's the same nervous, awkward man he knew from five years ago, and the confidence is stirring up something in his stomach that he can't quite put his finger on. Bruce turns back around, looks between the other two, and nods slowly.

"We'll fucking destroy him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bamf bruce! bamf bruce!
> 
> ill try and update sooner but. no promises
> 
> comment for ur very own bamf bruce


	8. i need to think

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey its been forever lol

Thor winces, a little embarrassed. Its fairly clear that Bruce is determined to carry out his revolution, and while Thor is all for rubbing the Grandmaster's nose in the dirt, his primary concern is for Asgard. And he... could really use Bruce's help.

"Not to step on your moment," he says and Bruce glances at him, eyes burning with an unfamiliar confidence. "But I really could use your assistance with defeating Hela."

"Thor, I- I can't." He at least has the good grace to look apologetic.

"My people will  _die._ "

"People here will die if I don't overthrow the Grandmaster."

"This oughta be fun," Valkyrie remarks, gleefully swigging from her bottle.

"I'm all for destroying the Grandmaster, but I..."

"Can't you do it alone? You're  _Thor,_ you can do anything!"

"Hela was strong enough to break Mjolnir after millennia in captivity, and every minute she spends on Asgard increases her power tenfold."

"She broke, uh, mew-mew?"

Thor looks down at his empty hand mournfully and nods. Bruce scoffs.

"That doesn't matter! You're Thor, you're not the god of hammers!"

Thor makes a face, and Bruce rolls his eyes. "Thor, if you think for a second you're not strong enough to beat quite literally everyone, I think she might have rattled something loose in your brain. I have absolute faith in you."

"So you'll come?"

"Still not happening."

Val snorts, looking down at her bottle. "I doubt he's gonna say yes no matter how much you try, Sparkles."

"You don't know that," Thor snaps at her. Bruce winces.

"I'm me, though, so I kind of do."

"Don't you want to see Earth again?" Thor tries hopefully, and Bruce opens his mouth as if to say something, before closing it again and furrowing his brow.

"I don't know. I was disoriented when I arrived, but I've sort of gotten used to being here. Earth and I never got on all that well in the first place, anyway."

"Stop pushing him, man," Val chips in, throwing an arm around Bruce's shoulders and waving her drink at Thor threateningly. "He doesn't wanna go, that's that. Leave him be."

"Now hold on a second," Bruce says, extricating himself from Val's arm, and she looks quizzically at him.

"But you  _just said-_ "

"Yeah, yes, I know what I said." He looks pained, eyebrows pulled close together. "But I... my neurons are firing faster than I can process the information. Give me a minute, okay?"

Both Val and Thor wait patiently as Bruce paces back and forth for a couple of minutes, rubbing at his temples and mumbling to himself. Val scowls at Thor. "This is your fault. You broke him," she hisses.

"What the hell did I do?" Thor defends. "I'm just trying to protect my kingdom. Which, incidentally, should be  _your_ job."

"It was, until _your_  sister killed my fellow warriors."

"It's hardly my fault she's a crazed psychopath. Be glad it doesn't run in the family, or we certainly wouldn't be having this conversation."

"Alright, shut up!" Bruce announces, interrupting Val as she begins to snap back at Thor. "I've made my decision."

"You're coming?" Thor asks optimistically.

"You're staying," Val states dryly.

" _You're_ both  _leaving,_ " Bruce replies, frowning at them both. "I need longer to think about this. You're asking a lot of me, Thor."

"I'm not saying you can't come  _back_ after we've saved Asgard," Thor grumbles. "But I really must be leaving for Asgard soon, so if you're not going to help me, can you at least direct me to how to get  _out_?"

"I mean, I've never given much thought to it, because I never really had plans to  _leave,_ so-"

"Wormholes," Val interrupts. Thor squints at her.

"What?"

She rolls her eyes, striding purposefully towards the window of Bruce's lab and gesturing out of it to the wormholes floating in the sky above Sakaar, spewing trash like nobodys business. "Wormholes. Sakaar and Asgard are about as far apart as any two known systems. Your best bet is a wormhole just outside the city limits. Refuel on Xandar and be back on Asgard in about, maybe, 18 months?"

Thor sighs. Thats way too long. That kind of time period... who knew what damage Hela could cause if he took that long to arrive?

"What about the big one?" he asks, pointing at the biggest wormhole around and raising an eyebrow. Val looks at him incredulously.

"The Devil's Anus?"

Bruce blinks at her. "I'm sorry, whose anus?"

"For the record," Thor mutters, glancing back at Bruce. "I didn't know it was called that."

"Why haven't I really examined that before?" Bruce questions, mostly to himself, stepping closer to the window and tilting his head. "It looks like a collapsing neutron star inside of an Einstein-Rosen Bridge."

Val gives him a Look. "That would tear most ships to pieces."

Nodding, Thor turns back to look at the wormhole. "You're right. I'd need one that could withstand the geodetic strain from the singularity."

Bruce looks at him curiously, and Thor winks back. "Not just a pretty face."

Snorting, Bruce shakes his head and turns to face the window again. "You'd also need an offline power steering system that could function without the onboard computer."

"So, what do you say?" Thor asks Bruce, who sighs. "Uncharted metagalactic travel through a cosmic gateway. Talk about an adventure."

He holds up his hand for a high five, and Bruce hesitates, glancing at Val, who raises her eyebrows at him.

"I'm gonna take a walk to clear my head," he announces instead. "I'll decide when I get back. Even though I'm fairly sure I told you both to leave."

"You need to blow off some steam?" Val asks, looking at him meaningfully, but he shakes his head.

"No, I'm good. Or Hulk is, rather."

"Hold on, she knows about Hulk?" Thor asks. Val rolls her eyes.

"Keep up."

Thor scowls, but before they can get into a scrap, Bruce folds his arms. "Alright, I'm leaving. Don't wait up."

And with that, he spins on his heel and strides from the room, already rubbing thoughtfully at his temples, and leaving Val and Thor to jab at one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like val and thor are a little too antagonistic of each other in this but im Trying,
> 
> comment before i pluck your nose hairs for this stylish mouses wig


End file.
